


i think i should go (you said maybe don't)

by blaketrash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Lots of texts, Mutual Pining, and late night ramblings, but no physical cheating, but we're all slightly goofy at 3am right?, clarke's trying hard to deny her feelings for bellamy but it's still bordering on emotional cheating, maybe not 'forbidden' but clarke's dating finn who's kind of an asshole, minor flarke and becho, mostly banter and awful attempts at flirting, slightly more extroverted and goofy clarke and bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28815930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blaketrash/pseuds/blaketrash
Summary: Clarke can’t sleep at night. Neither can Bellamy. The solution? Walking around their neighborhood way past their bedtime. It can be weirdly calming. And a great way to get to know someone.Or,late night conversations between Bellamy and Clarke as the relationship between them changes.+ Clarke’s taken (for angst reasons)
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 22
Kudos: 91





	i think i should go (you said maybe don't)

**Author's Note:**

> First off, hope you read the tags!
> 
> This fic is written for bellarke january joy! It would never have been posted if it weren't for my amazing beta [@doonotpanic!](https://doontpanic.tumblr.com)
> 
> Inspired by the songs [ 'Maybe Don't'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gg5-U2PKK0w) by Maisie Peters and JP Saxe and ['Can I Call You Tonight'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sLGW7xUQFFk) by Dayglow.  
> This story is the epitome of 'I wrote this for myself, but y'all can read it if you want' tag. That being said, I hope you like it!♥

**_**December 14th,** _ **

Clarke’s heartbeat echoes in the darkness of her living room. It’s past 3 a.m., and she’s the only one left awake. Next to her, on the pull-out couch, she feels the warmth of Raven’s body and hears her friend’s rhythmic breathing that clashes with occasional snores coming from Emori, curled up away on a lounge chair in the corner of the room. Clarke shuts her eyes, thinking she could force herself to go to sleep.

It doesn’t work: five minutes later, she’s still awake.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Twenty.

Clarke grabs her phone from the coffee table, blinding herself for a moment. As her eyes get used to the bright screen and her vision returns, she sees he’s online and sends the text before there’s enough time to change her mind.

<< Clarke (3:48 AM): _can we meet?_

Her heart stops when she sees him typing.

**_**September 8th,** _ **

It starts when Clarke discovers she’s not the only one in her friend group who can’t sleep at night.

It’s a random Wednesday night, way past her bedtime, and she didn’t even realize it, too preoccupied with a term paper she’s writing, her brain working on four coffees and two power bars she ate at some point during the day. Even as she submits her work and clicks out of all the tabs she kept open on her laptop; she feels no relief. Usually, submitting papers two weeks before the deadline is like heroin to Clarke, but tonight she’s actually more awake and tense than ever.

Clarke tries the usual: a few minutes of meditation, a hot shower, chamomile tea - nothing works. She still feels her feet tap involuntarily. She wraps herself in a blanket and takes her phone with a plan to scroll through Instagram until her head's mush when a message pops up in the delinquents' group chat.

>> Blake sent an attachment (1:54 AM)

She opens it, surprised to see a new message this late, and realizes it’s a meme. And not a particularly good or a funny meme, either. It’s got something to do with either Lord of the Rings or Game of Thrones, Clarke’s not sure which.

For whatever reason, she scrolls through her contacts and opens her and Bellamy’s private chat that’s only been used once or twice. After a quick catch-up on their messaging history (The first time he texts her, he asks if she’s with Finn, and she says no. The second time he texts her is to tell her to bring Raven tampons, and this time she responds with a thumbs-up emoji.) she writes up a new message and sends it without giving it a second thought.

<< Clarke Griffin (1:56 AM): _why are you sending memes to group chats at 2_ _am?_

>> Blake (1:56 AM): _Why are you responding to memes at 2 a.m?_

_Checkmate, Clarke_

>> Blake (1:58 AM): _Also, did you at least like the meme I sent?_

<< Clarke Griffin (1:58 AM): _you have a shit sense of humor, Blake_

>> Blake (1:58 AM): _I know, I laugh at all your jokes_

<< Clarke Griffin (1:58 AM): _that’s so not true_

She thinks this will be it, the longest conversation the two of them ever had alone. And then, a few minutes later, another message pops up.

>> Blake (2:00 AM): _Please, while you’re up, reply at least ‘lol’ or something to the group chat_

_Just don’t leave me on read_

_It’s rude_

<< Clarke Griffin (2:01 AM): _done_

>> Blake forwarded a message from ‘delinquents’ (2:01 AM): _‘lol or something’_

>> Blake (2:02 AM): _cute_

<< Clarke Griffin (2:02 AM): _I don’t know why you’re upset, I wrote exactly what you told me_

>> Blake (2:02 AM): _You’re not allowed to ever comment on my sense of humor again_

<< Clarke Griffin (2:03 AM): _send better memes next time_

>> Blake (2:03 AM): _Just because you asked so nicely_

_Btw, why are you up this late?_

<< Clarke Griffin (2:04 AM): _I was working on a term paper_

_I finished like half an hour, but I guess no one told my brain it’s time to sleep_

<< Clarke Griffin (2:06 AM): _what about you?_

>> Blake (2:06 AM): _My brain never lets me sleep_

<< Clarke Griffin (2:07 AM): _:/_

>> Blake (2:10 AM): _wanna go for a short walk around the neighborhood?_

Clarke stares at the unopened message on the top of her screen, right above the one she got from Finn four hours ago, wishing her goodnight.

>> Blake (2:11 AM): _It will help clear your head_

‘This is a stupid idea’, Clarke thinks. ‘Who in their right mind would get dressed and go out at 2 a.m. just to take a casual stroll around the neighborhood? And with a friend they barely even talk to?’

<< Clarke Griffin (2:12 AM): _sure, when?_

Apparently, her.

**_**September 10h,** _ **

It feels like the end of summer. Sure, the college started more than a week ago and the summer officially ended around that time too, but this night on the riverside with her friends feels like the end of summer for Clarke.

She can hear the sound of the guitar playing and people laughing as the wind carries it across the slow lowland river all the way to the end of the pier where she’s sitting now, trying to clear her head before someone calls the police on her friends. At this point, with the acoustic guitar in Murphy’s hands, someone calling in to snitch on their little bonfire party is inevitable.

Feeling dizzy, Clarke puts her head down on the wooden planks to look up to the stars. Her head is spinning slightly, but the stars look just as beautiful as ever, the perks of being in a part of town with minimal light pollution. For a while, she hears only the faint splashing of water, the whooshing of wind, the cracking of a far-away bonfire, and her friends in the distance. And then, barely noticeable, she picks out the sound of heavy footsteps nearing her. She doesn’t look up to see who it is, assuming it’s her boyfriend. When the footsteps reach her, she keeps her eyes on the stars. 

“Hi, baby.”

“Hey, babe,” a male voice greets her, but it isn't Finn’s.

Clarke jumps up, snapping out of her daydreams.

“ _Fuck_! Blake!” She screams, hitting his calf before she can stop herself. She doesn’t smack him hard, which is obvious from the way he bursts out laughing immediately. “You just scared the shit out of me!” she insists.

Bellamy’s laugh is deep and hearty when he plops down next to her. He smells like smoke from the fire.

“I seriously thought you were Finn,” she explains then, awkwardly playing with her shoelaces to avoid his eye.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he says. “I think _your boyfriend’s_ busy,” he adds just as they hear Jasper and Finn’s voices yell the lyrics to some song Clarke doesn’t know. “Why aren’t you over there?”

“They’re screaming so much, I feel like I’m already getting a hangover.”

“From two beers? That’s weak, even for you, _princess_.”

She whips her head around to shoot him an angry glare. “Don’t call me that. It’s weird.”

He bumps his shoulder with hers, a devilish smile on his lips. “Come on, _it’s funny_.”

“Finn doesn’t even call me that anymore.”

“Yeah, because we made fun of him.”

“ _Exactly_.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes playfully, before focusing them on something in the distance. “So, what are you doing here?”

“I was _trying_ to look at the stars,” she tells him, “before _someone_ interrupted me.”

“Well, go ahead then. Don't let me ruin your fun.”

Clarke begrudgingly lays back on the cold planks, into the same position she had before she was disrupted. After a minute, Bellamy makes himself comfortable next to her, his hand accidentally brushing past her thigh for a moment. It feels weird, the two of them lying there next to each other in the dark. 

The silence between them doesn’t last for more than two minutes.

“Hate to break it to you, princess, but there’s not much to see.”

“I know,” she sighs, partially in disappointment and a little bit out of her frustration with him. She watches as the wind carries the clouds, hiding most of the constellations and a part of the moon almost completely.

“ _Well_ ," Bellamy says, sitting up, "that sucked.” He taps his fingers on the metal railing in the rhythm of the song Murphy's playing in the distance, and Clarke pushes herself up on her elbows, watching him.

“Are you nervous about something, or?” 

Bellamy steadies his fingers. “ _No_. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

He shrugs. “Stuff.”

“ _That’s so deep_ , Blake.” 

Even under the faint moonlight, she can see the corners of his mouth curl. He plays along. “I’m a very deep guy.”

“ _Bet_ ,” she says quietly.

“By the way,” he says without looking at her, his eyes trained on the bonfire in the distance instead. “I had fun the other night. It feels so much better when I’m not walking alone down those dark and empty streets.”

“Yeah. Me too.” She feels the wind in her hair, tangling it slightly. “It was weirdly calming.”

“Why ‘ _weirdly’_?” He sounds offended.

She sits up, catching his eye for the briefest moment. “Well, I guess I always thought that ‘taking a walk to clear your head’ was something you were meant to do alone. Like, the presence of another person defeats that purpose because you’re not really alone with your thoughts, are you?”

“What if I’m alone with my thoughts enough already?” He asks. The question dances around Clarke’s mind until she realizes she’s been quiet for at least a few minutes, zoned out. She’s staring blankly at her friends in the distance as they’re trying to figure out the words of some old country song.

“We could go again sometimes,” she suggests casually, hugging her legs closer to her body. 

It’s like he sincerely didn’t expect it. “ _Really_? What about Finn?”

“What about Finn?” Clarke echoes. “He falls asleep at ten every night. This has nothing to do with him.” She’s aware Bellamy’s not Finn’s biggest fan no matter how hard he tries to hide it for the sake of the entire group getting along.

“I can’t sleep most nights, and I slept like a baby as soon as I hit my pillow after the walk the other night. So why not go again?”

“ _O-kay_ ,” Bellamy says, his voice unsure.

“Yeah,” she tells him. “Next time you want - just text me.”

Even in the dark, she can see he’s smiling, “I might.”

And so their late-night walks turn into a regular thing.

**_**September 13th,** _ **

>> Blake (2:04 AM): _Yo_

_I see you’re still online, so I wanted to check if you maybe want to go for a walk tonight? It's okay if you don't want to. I'm only asking because you told me to text you if I ever want to go again_

<< Clarke Griffin (2:05 AM): _sure, I’ll be done with studying in 5 minutes, and then we can meet_

>> Blake (2:05 AM): _Nerd_

>> Blake (2:06 AM): _So? Meet you in 15 min by that old bus stop?_

<< Clarke Griffin (2:07 AM): _yes_

_but don’t text me ‘yo’ ever again_

>> Blake (2:07 AM): _Yeah, maybe that’s for the best_

**_**September 17th,** _ **

>> Blake (1:46 AM): _I see you’re still up, want to go for a walk?_

<< Clarke Griffin (1:47 AM): _sure, by the bus stop in 10?_

>> Blake (1:47 AM): O _kay, see you then_

**_**September 20th,** _ **

>> Blake (2:17 AM): _meet you in 10?_

<< Clarke (2:17 AM): _yes_

**_**September 24th,** _ **

“Wait,” Clarke says one night, the sound of her uncontrolled laughter echoing through empty streets, “how old were you when that happened?”

It’s a pleasant autumn night, and the two of them are walking side by side, avoiding the puddles from the rain that stopped an hour ago. 

“Fourteen.”

“ _No_ ,” she shakes her head, still in stitches. “No, I don’t buy it.”

“ _Hey_ , you’re not the one who has to live with that memory,” Bellamy tells her. Clarke can see he’s trying his hardest not to laugh along with her as he continues, “or the one who has to think about it at least once a month when you’re trying to fall asleep.”

“So that’s what’s keeping you up most nights? Embarrassing stories from your teen years?” Clarke asks playfully, bumping into him a little as they walk together. “Please tell me more.”

“Sometimes,” Bellamy lifts his shoulder in a half shrug. “Sometimes it’s the general stress about life and college that keeps me up. And sometimes I just like the peace and quiet when everyone else is asleep,” he adds, and Clarke nods in understanding.“What about you?”

“Same, I guess,” she says, taking in a long breath. They take a few steps in silence before she speaks up again. “I mean, sometimes I’d much rather be asleep, but there really is something beautiful about the world at 3 or 4 a.m.”

“Yeah,” he says, “until you hear your neighbor’s alarm and realize _‘fuck it’s 6 already_ ’. And then you have to shut your eyes and hope you’ll get at least an hour of sleep before you have to get up for morning classes,” he says like he’s definitely speaking from experience.

She chuckles. “Professors who schedule their lectures early in the morning are sadists. You can’t convince me otherwise.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees. “Same with those who schedule their classes for 7 or 8 p.m. Maybe I _don’t_ want to spend my whole night listening to a guy talk about what kind of wheat Romans used to grow for their bread and beer.”

“Uhm _,_ I thinkyou _do,_ actually _._ ”

Bellamy bows his head. “ _I do._ ”

Clarke beams, pleased with herself. Their fingers brush with another step they take. She pulls her hand away, but that doesn’t stop a weird tingly sensation running through her body. She does her best to ignore the new feeling as she continues,

“Anyway, if we keep this going, I think we’re going to get to the conclusion that _all_ professors are sadists.”

“Well, most probably are,” he says, thoughtfully, as if he spent hours studying the subject in question, and as if he isn’t coming up with this bullshit on the spot.

“Fine,” she sighs in pretend-defeat. “ _Most._ ” 

He looks at her with a grin on his face, and what else is she supposed to do than smile back? He raises his eyebrows at her questioningly, so she does the same. If only she knew what all this was leading up to. “So, Clarke,” Bellamy lifts his chin up like he’s challenging her, “what’s _your_ most embarrassing story?”

She rolls her eyes at him, and with a groan, she says: “Where do I even start?”

**_**September 28th,** _ **

>> Bellamy B sent an attachment (1:15 AM)

_Finally found that Star Wars meme I was telling you about last night_

<< Clarke Griffin (1:16 AM): _HAHAHAHAHAH_

_I might’ve woken up my neighbors by laughing too hard_

>> Bellamy B (1:16 AM): _I take it my meme game is improving?_

<< Clarke Griffin (1:17 AM): _yes_

>> Bellamy B (1:17 AM): _Wow_

_I have to screenshot this message_

_And then frame it_

<< Clarke Griffin (1:18 AM): _nvm_

_forget what I said_

>> Bellamy B (1:20 AM): _goodnight to you too_

**_**October 1st,** _ **

<< Clarke Griffin (2:36 AM): _hey, I can’t sleep. you up?_

>> Bellamy B (2:37 AM): _Are you booty calling me, Clarke?_

_I’m afraid I’ll have to tell Finn about it_

_Nothing personal, it’s the bro code_

<< Clarke Griffin (2:38 AM): _no, asshole_

_wanna go for a walk?_

>> Bellamy B (2:38 AM): _Meet you there in 10?_

**_**October 5th,** _ **

“What would you do if the world ended tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. _Die? Probably?_ ”

An unexpected cackle escapes her throat, possibly waking up the entire neighborhood before she has time to cover her mouth with her hand. The two of them exchange looks under the luminescent street lighting.

“You?”

“Same? I guess?” she says, still shaking a little.

“That’s a very stupid question then, Clarke,” Bellamy says, trying to contain his laughter. There’s a spark in his dark brown eyes Clarke never noticed before. His right dimple is more prominent than his left, she notices too. It’s cute.

“I agree,” she says, lifting her left leg up on the bench to rest her chin on her knee. She swings her right foot, studying him and his beautiful curly hair for a moment more before she speaks: “You have a little sister, right?” 

His face is a mix of surprise and confusion like he didn’t expect Clarke to remember. “Yeah, she’s fourteen.”

“And her name is Octavia?” Clarke asks, thinking back to the last time he mentioned her a couple of weeks ago.

“Yes.”

She wraps her arms around her left leg, tilting her head a little. “Tell me more about her.”

**_**October 9th,** _ **

<< Clarke (4:15 AM): _just woke up from a nightmare where you threw frogs at me and laughed. I think it’s because of that terrible story about dissecting frogs you told me the other day_

_just wanted to say fuck you because now I can’t fall asleep again_

>> Bellamy B (8:01 AM): _So you dreamt of me?_

<< Clarke (8:05 AM ): _shut up_

**_**October 12th,** _ **

<< Clarke (1:20 AM): _hey, I'm running late_

 _still have another 400 words to write_

_can we meet at 2:20 instead?_

>> Bellamy B (1:21 AM): _Sure_

**_**October 15th,** _ **

Clarke’s standing at the doorway, listening to Jasper and Monty hype up their newest batch of moonshine. She’s doing a mix of politely nodding and secretly exchanging unsure looks with Harper as the duo keeps droning on about the fermentation process and the alcohol percentage. Clarke’s trying to be excited for her friends and their little experiments, but, right now, something else’s got her attention.

“And he's so mysterious about it,” Clarke sneaks a peek at Miller in the middle of the living room, telling a story to all their friends who’d listen, “he won’t tell me who the girl is, but a few nights ago he came in from their ‘walk’ around 4 a.m. I was just leaving the bathroom, so I saw him just as he got in, and I swear he was smiling and humming something to himself.”

“I wasn't singing,” Bellamy insists as everyone around him laughs.

“You should've seen it,” Miller continues despite the protests from his best friend, “he was _skipping_ like a little girl.”

“Shut up,” Bellamy playfully punches his friend in the arm before catching Clarke’s eye at the door. “I wasn't skipping, _I swear_.”

Clarke chuckles, her cheeks burning a bit before her eyes find Finn laughing hysterically at the other side of the room. She wonders if he’d be laughing just as hard if he knew the truth about who was the girl with Bellamy that night. Perhaps not.

An hour later, Clarke’s whole face is red again, this time as an unfortunate consequence of drinking one glass of red wine too many. She’s standing on the balcony with Bellamy, trying to cool down as her friend braces himself to finally try Jasper and Monty’s moonshine out of a comically large mug. 

They’re currently standing in silence, two meters apart, which is to say almost at the opposite sides of the small terrace. She watches as he brings the mug up to his nose to get a whiff, and then pulls it away quickly with a goofy expression on his face that makes Clarke laugh.

“That bad, huh?”

Bellamy grins, much more broadly than he would if he were completely sober. Clarke has to push down the butterflies that form in her stomach as he watches him. He looks way too good for someone illuminated by only a faint far-away streetlight and a ray of light coming through the crack in the slightly ajar terrace door. His hair is disheveled, with a single curl falling over his forehead. And he’s wearing a white sweater that looks so soft, Clarke wishes she could reach out and touch it.

“Okay, I’m gonna do it,” he says firmly.

Clarke wraps her arms around herself, carefully studying his grimace when he finally sips his drink.“How bad is it?”

He clears his throat, “It’s not great.”

“Let me try,” she says, reaching for his mug, but as their fingers brush, she has to force herself to ignore the goosebumps, tune out that weird feeling she had every time they’d hang out alone lately. It’s especially tough considering they’ve been spending time together almost every night for the past two or three weeks. She doesn’t even see Finn that often anymore.

She avoids his eye as she tips his glass back. When her head comes down a few moments later, his dark eyes are still trained on her, awaiting the final verdict.

"Hm," she says in her best attempt at a serious, professional moonshine sommelier (if that even exists) voice before she finally announces: "It's disgusting."

He lets out a chuckle, deep and hearty.“You had me worried for a moment, princess. I thought I was the weak one.” The nickname slips out for the first time in two months, and for once, Clarke doesn’t mind. She feels like she should mind.

“It tastes like a nail polish remover,” she says, cracking up with him.

He smiles at that, and she looks away, biting her lip. ”So,” Clarke says to break the silence, “heard you were skipping like a little girl?”

His eyes widen in shock as he lifts his index finger, “First off, I wasn't skipping, Miller’s making shit up.”

Clarke covers her laugh with her hand, and just before Bellamy can say anything more, Murphy’s head pops up at the door. He looks both of them up and down like he’s studying the vibe of their conversation before he intervenes:

“Bellamy, would you tell us already who's the lucky girl?” He asks as he squeezes between them on the small terrace and lights up a cigarette. “Clarke and I won't tell, right Clarke?” He jokes, throwing his arm around Clarke’s shoulder.

“Or the lucky guy,” Clarke suggests playfully, earning herself a wink from Murphy.

Bellamy takes another long sip of the moonshine instead of responding; a great sacrifice on his part. 

“Come on,” Murphy pokes Bellamy’s side, “help me win the bet, and I’ll split the money with you.”

The other guy coughs on his drink, his eyes wide in horror, _“There’s a bet?_ ” 

“Not yet,” Murphy says, casually blowing out smoke. “But if you tell me who it is, I’ll go in there and offer Finn a chance to lose 50 bucks.”

“It's not happening.” 

“Come on, Bellamy.”

“There’s no girl,” he says almost convincingly. He meets Clarke’s eye with a bright smile on his lips. “Can't a guy walk by himself at night without you turning it into something it's not?” If Clarke didn’t know the truth, he might’ve been able to fool her too.

Next to Clarke, Murphy groans. “ _Man_ , you’re so boring,” he whines, but when he’s just about to say something else, a voice calls him from inside. “Coming!” He yells before turning to Clarke: “If he tells you anything - you have to tell me. It’s the law.”

“Of course.”

He nods and gives Clarke his half-smoked cigarette before disappearing through the door. Clarke looks down at the cigarette in her hand and exchanges a confused look with Bellamy before she puts it out.

Bellamy takes another sip of his drink, frowning with disgust, “Why am I still drinking this?” He asks just as Clarke says “sorry.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“Sorry for playing along with the mystery woman bit,” Clarke clarifies. “I just thought it was funny.”

He waves his hand dismissively, without meeting her eye. “Miller's full of shit, and Murphy just likes to annoy me,” he says. “Besides, I think I should be apologizing. I hope this didn't make things weird between you and Finn.”

“Why would you make it weird?”

“Well, Miller made it seem like I was into you,” he explains awkwardly.

“Yeah? And?” She asks. “I know you’re not.” The other part comes out too fast, she can’t even let herself entertain the possibility of Bellamy liking her.

“ _Right,”_ Bellamy grimaces. “But like-” he stutters, “I mean- what did Finn have to say about that?"

“Oh, he's cool with it.”

“ _Really_?”

Clarke still can’t bring herself to look at him. She draws in a long breath, leaning against the cold terrace railing. “He doesn't know,” she says silently.

“Why not?”

She shrugs her eyes on the horizon. “I never told him,” she admits. She thinks about it for a second before she speaks again: “ _Should_ I tell him?”

“I don't know,” his voice is flat. “If you want to?”

Here’s the half-truth she could admit to: At first, Clarke meant to tell Finn about going on a walk with Bellamy, but it slipped her mind. And then, after the third or fourth time, she almost brought up Bellamy when she was complaining to Finn about how late she fell asleep again the night before, but it suddenly felt weird bringing it up. Like Finn would be mad if she never mentioned it before. But it's not like he ever seems that interested or asks her what she’s doing during all those sleepless nights that make her sleep through morning classes. 

The other truth, the one so deep in her subconsciousness she couldn’t quite admit to herself yet, is that these walks and late-night conversations with Bellamy are the best things that happened to her whole year. It’s gotten to the point where she now can’t sleep unless she goes on a walk with Bellamy first. She never felt quite as comfortable and open with anyone else, not even Finn. And maybe, somewhere along the line, she more or less subconsciously stopped even trying to go to bed on time, a part of her hoping Bellamy’s having just as hard time falling asleep as her.

Ignoring her growing crush on Bellamy is something she can hopefully manage by herself, but if anyone else found out about their arrangement - it wouldn’t be long until her feelings were revealed too. Clarke can’t risk that.

“Did _you_ tell him something?” She asks suddenly, trying not to sound as horrified as she feels. 

He narrows his eyes, shaking his head, “ _No_. Of course not.”

“Good,” she says, flashing him a bright smile, “he doesn’t need to know.” Bellamy furrows his eyebrows at her words, but he doesn’t say anything else on the subject. And even though Clarke says it half-jokingly, it feels wrong. But not as wrong as she feels when Finn starts teasing Bellamy about the mystery girl half an hour later, and all Clarke can do is sit there in Finn’s lap, laugh along with her friend’s jokes, and pretend like Bellamy's not glancing at her every time he swears there's no girl.

**__ **

**__ **

**_**October 17th,** _ **

>> Bellamy (2:29 AM): _Dear Clarke Griffin, I’m writing this message to you because it’s late and you’re online, and I’m bored, and I can’t sleep. I was wondering if you’d like to go for a walk around the block. Hope to hear from you soon, Bellamy Blake_

<< Clarke (2:34 AM): _Dear Bellamy Blake, I’m delighted to receive your offer since I too can’t sleep and am very bored. I’d love to take a little stroll around our pleasant neighborhood. Shall we meet at our usual spot by the olden bus stop in say ten minutes? Best wishes, Clarke Griffin_

>> Bellamy (2:34 AM): _Dear Clarke, can’t believe I watched you type this bullshit for 5 minutes._

_Also, yes. See you there_

_Best, Bell_

<< Clarke (2:35 AM): _:)_

**_**October 19th,** _ **

<< Clarke (1:12 AM): _wanna go for a walk?_

>> Bellamy (1:13 AM): _Always_

**_**October 23rd,** _ **

“I was surprised when I got your text tonight,” Bellamy says to Clarke when they walk past her building for the fourth time in one night. Usually, by the second or third time, Clarke would slow down once they near her building, and they’d linger in front of the entrance, chatting for a couple of minutes before finally breaking off and saying goodbye. Sometimes, Clarke would stand awkwardly and watch him walk away, or he’d linger and watch her go up the stairs, and then they’d wave to each other. 

Tonight’s different tough.

“Why were you surprised?” She asks.

“I could’ve sworn I heard you tell Raven the other day that you and Finn have a date tonight.” It’s barely noticeable, but there’s slight irritation in his voice when he says her boyfriend’s name. This is not the first time Clarke notices it.

“So you were listening in on our conversation?” She raises her eyebrows playfully, acting like she’s not avoiding the subject.

“I didn’t know it was a secret.”

“ _It’s not_.”

“I also heard something about you buying a red dress for tonight?”

She makes a “hm” sound but doesn’t say anything. They walk in silence for a bit. It was much easier to avoid tearing up fifteen minutes ago when Bellamy was telling her about all his eccentric history professor, Clarke realizes. Bellamy’s so good at that: filling the silence with his weird and random stories. Clarke’s usually not too bad at that either, but tonight she’s off her game.

“Just saying,” Bellamy says just as someone’s car alarm goes off in the distance, “must’ve been something special if you brought a new dress for it.”

“It’s just a dress, Bellamy,” she’s trying to seem casual, cheerful even, but she can feel her voice shaking. “And it was dark blue, not red,” she corrects. “I’ll just wear it some other day. _No big deal_.”

“So, what happened?” He asks, and that’s enough for her eyes to finally fill with tears. 

She shakes her head and bites on her lower lip, trying to keep tears from welling up.

It’s stupid, really, the reason why she’s on the verge of tears tonight. It’s not like tonight’s the first time the exact same situation occurred, and yet she never cried about it before. Tonight, by far, isn’t the first time in the last four days of dating that Finn stood her up last minute with the lamest excuse in the book. But something feels different about tonight. 

In her head, Clarke has a clear image from a couple of days ago, and it’s all connected to tonight: _she’s standing alone in the gallery downtown, feeling nervous about being the only third-year student whose drawing got picked for the art show, and then, on the other side of the gallery, she sees her boyfriend, chatting away with some blonde girl, disinterested in his surroundings, and her heart sinks. A meter away stands Bellamy, with a flower bouquet in his hands and Raven by his side. Both of them seem to be looking around until, finally, Bellamy’s eyes meet Clarke’s, and he beams at her. Later that evening, Bellamy assures Clarke the bouquet of all of her favorite flowers is from everyone. “That's including Finn,” he points out in a way that makes Clarke realize her boyfriend had absolutely nothing to do with it, and it was all Bellamy. Clarke doesn’t have a vase, so she puts the flowers in a jar and places it on the coffee table in the middle of her small apartment so that she can admire them all day long._

Bellamy stops in his tracks. “Is everything okay?” There’s a crease on his forehead he only gets when he’s worried. She nods, trying not to look at him for too long otherwise she might actually start to cry. 

“Hey,” he says gently, “I’m so sorry, Clarke. I didn’t think-” he trails off, putting his hand on her shoulder as she finally looks up at him. 

And then she breaks down. 

“I’m so sorry I brought it up,” his voice is soft, apologetic. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks.” She’s wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m not usually like this, I swear. I think it’s just stress and everything,” she’s rambling while the tears continue to stream down her face. “I just had that show the other day, and now I have a big presentation in a few days and-” a sob escapes her throat, “and I really don’t want to go home and be alone right now.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures her, putting his other hand on her arm, rubbing calming circles with his thumb.

Clarke’s not sure if she’s the one who makes the first move or Bellamy, but a second later, her arms are around his waist, and his are around her shoulders, and he's holding her in a warm embrace in the middle of an empty street. Her heart never beat this hard.

“It’s okay, Clarke,” he whispers into her hair. She lets out the smallest sob into his shoulder. “We can stay as long as you want,” he says. But they both know it isn’t true.

**_**October 25th,** _ **

>> Bellamy (3:01 AM): _Just finished that book you recommended_

<< Clarke (3:02 AM): _that was fast_

_what did you think?_

_btw I’m still not watching those documentaries_

>> Bellamy (3:02 AM): _Can’t decide if I like it_

<< Clarke (3:03 AM): _not surprised, you don’t like anything_

<< Clarke (3:05 AM): _wanna talk it out?_

>> Bellamy (3:05 AM): _Yes_

_Meet you in 10 minutes?_

<< Clarke (3:05 AM): _of course_

**_**October 28th,** _ **

“I have a stupid question,” she announces one night when they’re walking down a poorly lit street, a street they never walked down before. Clarke’s trying to be real casual about wearing Bellamy’s jacket which he graciously offered after he saw her shaking in her Henley. She’s trying her best not to notice the smell of cologne that comes from it that does weird and pleasant stuff to her stomach. That is definitely not allowed. This crush has to stop.

“Shoot.”

“What are we gonna do once it gets too cold to go out? Surely we can’t keep walking around like this when it freezes.” 

“Try our best to actually fall asleep on time?” Bellamy offers, and she rolls her eyes at him playfully. “I’m not joking, Clarke,” he says, his deep voice cracking a little. “Wouldn’t want to risk you getting hypothermia if you forget your jacket again.”

She chuckles, purposely bumping into him as they walk side by side. She can see his mouth curl a little as he ducks his head.

“I guess I’ll kind of miss this if we stop,” she says without giving it a second thought.

“Me too.”

Clarke’s eyes meet Bellamy’s for the briefest moment before he diverts his gaze. She can only hear the sound of her own heartbeat as they continue down the street, back to their usual route.

“We could make snow angels and build the greatest snowman this neighborhood has ever seen,” he says, after some time, looking at the road in front of them. “I would invite you over for a nice cup of warm peppermint tea but... _you know_.”

“I like chamomile better?”

He snorts at her joke.

“ _The bro code,_ ” she says dramatically, and he nods. “I would invite you over to my place too, but-”

“I know,” he reassures her before her voice trails off. 

The next few steps they take in silence again. Clarke can’t stand it. She’s trying her hardest not to think about what it would be like not to see Bellamy every day again, and failing miserably at it.

"How did you and Finn become friends?” she asks even though her boyfriend is the last topic she wants to discuss with Bellamy right now. But it’s better than nothing. Right? “I never heard the full story.”

“There’s no story,” he shrugs. “I met him, Raven, and Murphy first week of college. We all sat next to each other in sociology and just kind of started hanging out as a group.”

“Raven took sociology? Why?”

“Girl’s got layers.”

She nods, putting all the pieces together: “So, wait, you met _all of them_ freshman year but the two of us only met last year?” 

“Well,” Bellamy kicks a pebble, “you know Finn. He wasn’t much for combining friend groups.” It’s always weird hearing Bellamy talk about her boyfriend, even when she brings him up first, even though he was Finn’s friend first before he was hers. “We were kind of a ‘guys-only’ type of group.”

“By choice or?” Clarke teases. Bellamy playfully pushes her aside with an eye-roll, and she lets out a loud cackle that echoes down the empty streets.

“Shhh,” Bellamy half-laughs.

She’s still shaking a little when she brings her finger up to her lips to mimic him.

“Maybe you and I are up, but some people actually like to sleep at this time.”

“ _Weird_ ,” she says only to see him chuckle, and he does. Their hands brush by their sides, and Clarke pulls her hand away as electricity goes through her entire body. Bellamy looks unbothered, so she lets herself look at him for a moment, admiring his hair, a curly mess from the light rain, and his cheeks pinched from the cold.

“Anyway,” she skips, joining her hands together and returning to the previous topic. “I remember Finn ditching me a lot when he first started hanging out with you guys”, she tells Bellamy, before adding the next part in her best attempt at a raspy male voice: “ _Actually the boys and I are hanging out tonight. Nobody else is bringing their girlfriend._ ” Bellamy laughs, and she continues in her normal voice again, “I always hated that. I thought he was embarrassed of me or something.”

“Nah, we were just losers who liked to get drunk and play video games.”

“And _now_ ,” she trails off, raising her eyebrow questioningly. She wonders why the two guys don’t seem to be too friendly these days, but it’s a question for another time.

“Same,” he admits, bobbing his head with a smile. “But now we have female friends too.”

“ _Wow_ , if that’s not growth.”

“ _No doubt,_ ” he clicks his tongue.

Clarke lets out a chuckle. “And what about Raven? You meet her first week too, but she wasn’t in your little group, right?”

“Right,” he says, “We hung out for maybe a month before she started avoiding me.”

“Oh!” This piques Clarke’s interest. “Why was she avoiding you?”

“We slept together.” He says uncomfortably, rushing to further explain: “It was stupid, and it meant nothing. We both just got out of relationships and needed something stupid and meaningless. And one night we were at her apartment, and it happened. It’s kind of weird when I think about it now.”

“Yeah, I don't understand what you saw in her,” she says sarcastically, stuffing her hands in her pockets which reminds her she’s wearing Bellamy’s jacket. She’s already dreading the moment she’s supposed to give it back to him. 

“Those long legs, beautiful brown hair, brown eyes, truly nothing special,” Clarke adds flatly.

“Exactly. _Ew,_ ” he plays along.

She shrugs, her voice trembling a little as she continues the joke: “I guess if I slept with one of the hottest girls at the University of Arkadia, I’d be embarrassed too.” He doesn’t say anything more, awkwardly looking away, so, for whatever reason, Clarke pushes the subject further: “So is there any awkward, lingering feelings between you two that I can look forward to when we all hang out next time?”

“I don’t think so,” Bellamy tells her, running his hand through his hair. “As I said it was a one-time thing, meant nothing.” Clarke raises her eyebrow at him, and he adds: “Now I'm way more into blondes anyway.”

There’s a full five-second period where Clarke feels her heart stop.

”Except you, _of course,_ ” he adds quickly, playing it all off as some sort of joke.

”Ohhhhhh,” she says after a moment, “you mean you're very into _Josie_?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows at him, hoping she sounds normal enough and not like she had a mini heart attack. She knows this comment will get a rise out of him since she never saw Bellamy dislikes a person so obviously and loudly the way he dislikes Josephine Lightbourne.

Bellamy’s trying his hardest to hide his laugh, biting on his lip, and lowering his head. “Absolutely,” he says, his voice cracking up. “That girl-” Bellamy meets Clarke’s eye, “- _drives me crazy._ ”

Clarke’s holding back her laugh when she says, “I’m pretty sure she feels the same.”

“There you go,” he says, his voice pretend-determined. “I guess I have to tell her how I feel before it’s too late!”

“It might already be too late,” Clarke fake-pouts at him, “she's dating Gabriel Santiago.” 

“So you don't think I should tell her how I feel then?” He asks, still in that joking tone, but his expression looks a little sincerer than a minute ago, and her heart stops again. That is not allowed.

**_**October 30th,** _ **

<< Clarke (0:30 AM): _it turns out the love of your life can’t make it to Raven’s halloween party_

_I tried my best, but she has other plans_

>> Bellamy (0:32 AM): _Who?_

<< Clarke (0:32 AM): _Josephine_

>> Bellamy(0:32 AM): _Oh_

_I forgot about that_

_I mean_

_OH NO_

_WHAT WILL I DO??_

_:’’’(_

_Where’s the broken heart emoji? I can’t find it_

<< Clarke (0:33 AM): _ok, you’re not selling this_

_I have a strange feeling you aren’t really in love with her_

>> Bellamy (0:33 AM): _How dare you accuse me of such a thing??_

_Anyway_

_I’ve got two questions for you_

_1)Is it possible my phone doesn’t have a broken heart emoji?_

_2)Are you’re still coming to Raven’s?_

<< Clarke (0:34 AM): _1\. no, grandpa_

_2\. yes_

_wouldn’t miss it_

>> Bellamy (0:34 AM): _Cool_

_Have you figured out your costume yet?_

<< Clarke (0:35 AM): _nope, still deciding_

>> Bellamy (0:35 AM): _What are the options? Let me hear it_

<< Clarke (0:35 AM): _So Finn wants us to come as the couple from Grease_

_but I found this angel costume I really like_

_It might be a bit basic but idc_

>> Bellamy (0:36 AM): _Angel all the way_

<< Clarke (0:37 AM): _have you picked out your costume?_

>> Bellamy (0:37 AM): _It’s a secret_

_Top secret_

<< Clarke (0:37 AM): _are you gonna be a secret agent or something?_

>> Bellamy (0:38 AM): _I’m not telling_

<< Clarke (0:38 AM): _boo_

_you suck_

>> Bellamy (0:38 AM): _You’re gonna love it_

Clarke didn’t doubt that.

**__ **

**__ **

**_**October 31st,** _ **

On Halloween, Bellamy’s dressed like James Bond, in a black tux with his hair gelled back. He looks out of place as he makes his way through Raven’s crowded apartment filled almost exclusively with various Marvel and DC superheroes. 

He’s drinking martini which he usually hates, but tonight he made a big deal of point out it’s "shaken, not stirred". Clarke’s definitely not staring at him. Maybe she’s occasionally sneaking a glance at him to check what kind of absurd Pierce Brosnan’s impression is he doing right now, but she’s not staring. 

And when they start playing that stupid drinking game they always play, Clarke’s definitely not hoping she’ll get some kind of dare that involves Bellamy. No, that would be wrong. So she drinks five shots of tequila to shut that part of her brain up. 

And then those deep dark hopes come true.

“Clarke?” someone calls her name for the fifth time since they started playing. “Truth or dare?” 

So far, Clarke had to drink from the glass of a person to her left (kind of gross), name as many beer brands as she can (pass, drink), take a shot because she didn’t want to stick her hand down the toilet bowl (who would?), and whisper something dirty to Miller she’d much rather never repeat. It still beats discussing her sex life with the entirety of her friend group, so she doesn’t even think about it when she says: “Dare.”

Murphy, dressed as low-effort Deadpool, furrows his brows as he read the dare off his phone: “Kiss the third person to your right.”

Clarke counts. Her heart stops. 

She counts again.

“I don’t mind, it’s a game,” Finn tells her. “And it’s just a peck, right?”

Clarke nods. 

Her eyes meet Bellamy’s. This wasn’t supposed to actually happen. It’s one thing to half-jokingly flirt with Bellamy when they’re alone, and a whole different thing to kiss him in front of all of their friends, even if it’s for a dare. 

She was only supposed to think about it, maybe and fantasize a little, and then once she's sober again, push all those thoughts deep down and pretend nothing ever happened. Acting on it is crossing a line nobody but Clarke even knows exists. She should pass the dare and drink.

But then again, it’s just a peck. 

It would be rude to refuse.

_Right?_

There’s loud chatter in the room when Clarke stands up, smoothing down her dress as her head spins.

“Do I have to stand up too?” Bellamy asks with a smirk.

“Yeah,” she says, approaching him with her arms crossed, “ _get up_ ,” She was going for a ‘ cool, I don’t give a shit’ tone, but it sounds slightly more aggressive than she meant it to. Someone gives a wolf-whistle, and Clarke overhears Miller make an inappropriate comment to Finn, but she pushes it all aside when Bellamy straightens up in front of her, his expression a mix of confusion and awe. 

They face off in the middle of the room. She can hear their friends still making jokes at their expense, but none of them are quite registering in Clarke’s mind, mixed together with the sound of MTV hits playing in the background. 

In front of her, Clarke watches Bellamy laugh at something Murphy said, it’s a deep, open-mouthed laugh, and it doesn’t seem as forced as her own. ‘He _actually_ looks like James Bond’, Clarke drunkenly thinks to herself as she instinctively reaches to straighten his bow-tie, and he meets her eyes, a curious look on his face. The world around them disappears.

“So, how do we-” he lets out before she presses her lips to his, her heart hammering in her chest. There’s no time to deepen the kiss or pull him closer because a second later it’s over, and Bellamy’s standing in front of her, a strange expression on his face.

Clarke steps back, acting chill like she’s not desperately aching for more. “Not as bad as I thought,” she lets out only for him to hear as the rest of their friends move on to discuss another dare.

She shouldn't have said it. This is crossing a line, it's way past that 'subtle, joking, only kind-of-flirting' thing they sometimes do. It's too much, and she can tell by the face Bellamy makes when she says it.

“You thought about it?” He raises his eyebrows. His expression alone makes Clarke’s heart stop.

She takes another step back before Finn pulls her into his lap and buries his head in her shoulder, planting small kisses that would usually make her melt. Instead, Clarke looks up at Bellamy. He tips his glass back, and when his head comes down, his eyes meet Clarke’s again. 

**__ **

**__ **

**_**November 1st,** _ **

Clarke doesn’t know how they ended up here with her, sitting on the kitchen counter, and him, standing in front of her, his face inches away from hers, his hands by her side. 

The drinking game was over. One moment she was resting her head on Bellamy’s shoulder in the living room, and they were giggling about Monty’s dance moves, and he was leaning in with his hand on her knee, whispering something about Miller's new boyfriend. And the next they were alone in Raven’s kitchen. She remembers swinging her right foot, sat on the kitchen counter, watching him as he searched through the cabinets for a clean wine glass. She vaguely recalls insisting she could open the wine bottle herself and him laughing at her and trying to take it away from her. And then he stopped. And he put the wine bottle on the marble counter next to her and looked up at her. That’s when all the oxygen got sucked out of the room.

So they ended up here, with her staring at his freckles, secretly wishing she could trace them with her fingers. If she was slightly drunker, she could kiss him right here and now, and someone could walk in on them, and everything in her life could change. But she’s not _that_ drunk.

“What are we doing?” she whispers, swallowing hard.

“Nothing,” he says, his voice rough and his eyes roaming over her eyes to her mouth, and back. He’s looking at her with the same intensity she’s studying him, trying to remember every tiniest detail: the pattern of his freckles, his dimples, his long dark lashes, dark eyes, wide-blown pupils, and that little curl that falls over his forehead no matter how much gel he puts in his hair. 

Kissing him once wasn’t enough. She wishes he could touch her, bring his hand up to her face, and brush her neck. And that she could kiss him, wrap her hands around him and pull him closer to her body.

She has a boyfriend, the reminder rings in her head.

“We shouldn’t,” she tells him, pulling away by the tiniest bit.

He shakes his head and pushes himself away from her. “ _No, I know_.”

She crosses her legs and pulls down her white dress, what an irony she’s dressed as an angel tonight (at least she took off her wings hours ago if that makes it any better). Clarke tilts her head, tossing her hair over to the side, exposing the right side of her neck and her naked shoulder. She bites her lips nervously, her eyes still locked on his:

“You know Echo likes you.” Even though it’s a statement, it sounds more like a question, and Bellamy looks completely taken aback by it.

“I don’t really care.”

“Maybe you should.”

“ _I don’t,_ ” he insists.

“She might sleep with you if you pay her some attention.” The moment those words leave Clarke’s mouth, she hates herself. 

She shuts her eyes not to see his reaction, but she can hear the irritation in his voice: “The way Finn pays attention to you?”

“ _Bellamy_ ,” she warns.

“It’s cool,” he raises his hands defensively and takes another shaky step back. He looks her up and down from a distance. “We’re friends, right?”

“Right,” Clarke repeats slowly like she’s reminding herself as well, “ _friends_.” 

She watches him nod, his face falling a bit, and suddenly she hates herself even more for doing this to him. It’s not fair. It’s not his fault she likes him a lot more than she should. And it’s been only getting worse. So just as he’s about to leave, she blurts out the next part: 

“Maybe we shouldn’t hang out anymore.”

**_**November 3rd,** _ **

Ever since she sobered up from that Halloween party, Clarke’s been drafting a new text to send to Bellamy, replaying the fight they had that night in her head like she’s hoping for a different outcome this time. How do you apologize to someone for looking them in the eye and telling them you two shouldn’t talk anymore? ‘ _I’m sorry I was an asshole’_ doesn’t quite do the job, does it _?_

How do you expect forgiveness from someone who watched you push them away and still kept holding on? 

“Don’t do this,” Bellamy told her that night, “don’t make decisions for both of us. Don’t you care what I think?” 

But she kept pushing him away. 

“It could be different if you let it,” he said mysteriously, before disappearing through the kitchen doors and not meeting her eye for the rest of the night.

‘ _what did you mean when you said it could be different? I miss you. can we be friends again?’_ Clarke typed out before deleting it entirely. 

The text message apology may not be going so great.

****

**_**November 5th.** _ **

_'I'm sorry, I didn't mean what I said, our friendship means so much to me and I miss you a lot. can you just forget I ever said anything and just be friends again?'_ Clarke typed out, but it sounded too desperate once she wrote it down. Not that she wasn’t desperate though, not talking to him was killing her, and she hardly slept since she last saw him.

Maybe a part of Clarke hoped if she pushed Bellamy away, all the emotions she felt for him would disappear too. Now that they haven’t spoken in five days, it feels like the exact opposite is happening. Not having him in her life hurt a lot more than she expected.

Even Finn noticed Clarke wasn’t her usual self, but he didn’t push the subject further. Like she could ever tell him any part of it, even if he asked.

**__ **

**__ **

**_**November 8th,** _ **

_'Hey, Bellamy. I'm sorry for what I said at halloween, I was drunk and scared of my own feelings.'_

No. 

Definitely not sending that. 

**_**November 10th,** _ **

When she finally sends Bellamy a text, ten days later, it’s probably too casual and already too late.

<< Clarke (2:12 AM): _hey,_ _wanna maybe go for a walk?_

With every minute that passes, Clarke worries she made a mistake sending that text. And then, finally, a message pops up.

>> Bellamy (2:17 AM): _Can’t, I’m at Echo’s_

When Clarke’s breathing finally stabilizes and she wipes away the tears, she types out a reply:

<< Clarke (2:24 AM): _ok, maybe some other time then_

>> Bellamy (2:25 AM): S _ure_

They don’t see each other for another week after that.

****

****

**_**November 20th,** _ **

“She doesn’t like white,” Bellamy tells Finn, and the other guy rolls his eyes.

It’s Finn’s birthday, or, more precisely, it was Finn’s birthday until about an hour ago. Now it’s just some random November day. Bellamy’s obviously tipsy, sprawled across one of Clarke’s favorite lounge chairs in Finn’s apartment. 

Normally, Clarke would fight him over sitting in it, but things have been shaky between them lately. Instead, Clarke’s watching him, thinking of the first conversation they had since Halloween, a few days ago. After successfully avoiding each other the entire night at the Dropship, a bar on their campus famous for its cheap draft beer, they somehow ended up walking back home together. She’s not sure which one of them first started pretending nothing weird ever happened between them, but Clarke was grateful. And then Bellamy spent the entire walk back talking about a show Echo made him watch the other night and Clarke pretended she was interested even though she felt like crying the entire time. Seeing him tonight, laughing along with Echo, and whispering things to her from time to time, makes Clarke want to cry some more. Or scream. The drinks she had so far aren’t really helping. 

“It’s just wine,” Finn says placing the glass of evidently white wine in front of Clarke. “Who cares?”

“Clarke, _probably._ ”

“If she doesn’t like it, she can say it herself.” Finn sounds pissed off. It’s good that nobody else in the room is paying attention to this exchange, all wrapped up in their own conversations, otherwise, Clarke would be embarrassed by this whole situation. “You don’t have to speak for her.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Clarke looks up at her boyfriend with an apologetic smile. “I really don’t like white wine.” It was the first alcohol she ever tasted, the first that gave her a massive hangover and a few awkward memories with her high school friends. Finn was there, it happened a few days before their first kiss, it’s weird how he doesn’t remember it. But Bellamy somehow remembered. Clarke's heart races at that thought.

“Whatever,” Finn sighs, picking up the glass begrudgingly and dragging his feet back to the kitchen, making a big show out of being a decent boyfriend. 

Clarke’s eyes finally find Bellamy’s, and she mouths ‘thank you’. He smiles back. 

She wishes they could go back to the way things were or that she could tell him how much she misses him, but then Echo leans closer to Bellamy, practically sitting down in his lap as she whispers something to him, and Clarke feels a pang in her chest. She barely even notices when Finn comes back from the kitchen with the right wine until he pulls her closer and starts planting little kisses on her shoulder.

There’s a brief moment while Finn’s brushing Clarke’s hair out of the way and kissing her neck, and Echo’s got her hands on Bellamy’s chest when Clarke’s eyes meet Bellamy’s and everything else melts away. 

In Clarke’s mind, she likes to think the two of them are playing an absurd game of who can make the other person more jealous. When, in reality, she’s probably the only loser in that game, Clarke realizes as Echo grabs Bellamy’s face and pulls him into a sloppy, open-mouth kiss that makes Clarke’s stomach turn.

**_**November 24th,** _ **

<< Clarke (1:58 AM): _wanted to ask if you want to go for a walk, but it’s raining outside_

>> Bellamy (2:03 AM): _Well, we can’t risk you melting now can we, princess?_

<< Clarke (2:03 AM): _ha ha_

 _‘I do own an umbrella tho_ ’, Clarke types then deletes it letter by letter. Then she types ‘ _can I call you?_ ’ and her finger lingers over the send button for a full minute before she deletes the text and locks her phone. Rolling over to the other side of the bed, she finally realizes just how badly she fucked up.

**_**November 30th,** _ **

>> Bellamy (3:22 AM): H _ey, wanna go for a walk?_

<< Clarke (9:02 AM): _hey, sorry, I was asleep_

_fell asleep on my laptop actually_

_:/_

>> Bellamy (9:03 AM): N _o problem_

<< Clarke (9:03 AM): _I really am sorry Bellamy_

>> Bellamy (9:04 AM): _It was late_

_Some other time_

****

**_**December 3rd,** _ **

>> 1 missed call from Bellamy (4:11 AM)

>> 1 voicemail from Bellamy (4:14 AM):

 _“Hey, Clarke, sorry I’m calling you this late. You’re probably asleep... I mean, I’m sure you’re asleep.”_ His voice sounds like he’s drunk and rambling a bit. _“I’m walking home, and I just wanted to tell you I saw that hedgehog we used to see back in September, and she had her babies with her again. They’re so cute and grownup, Clarke!”_

In the morning, when she listens to his message, Clarke laughs at the adorable excitement in his voice. It’s so unlike the usual serious Bellamy she knew before.

He pauses for a moment that makes Clarke think that’s all, but before she clicks out, she hears him sigh. His voice is calmer now, sadder: _“Maybe I shouldn’t have called you. I don’t know, I might be a bit drunk.”_

‘A _bit,_ ’Clarke repeats to herself again as Bellamy falls silent on the other side. She can clearly picture him walking down the street with weary eyes and his hair disheveled from partying. There’s something about the thought of him exhausted and possibly drunk, still deciding to leave this message that warms her insides.

On the voicemail, Bellamy clears his throat. _“Oh, I just remembered you have that test early tomorrow! It’s good that you’re asleep then. Good luck! And good night... I guess? Bye, Clarke.”_

She replays the message two times before she finally forces herself to get out of bed. She ends up being almost late for her test.

**_**December 6th,** _ **

Clarke’s finally wearing that dark blue dress she bought for special occasions. It’s too bad her night turns into a disaster only two hours after Clarke walks through Bellamy’s door.

It’s a gradual build-up to the lowest point of the night. At first, Clarke thought getting a run in her tights might just be the absolute worst thing that could happen to her all night. So, ten minutes after she arrives, Clarke’s already on the phone, calling Raven and Emori, asking them to run to the store on their way over and buy her a fresh pair.

The second bad thing happens just as Clarke starts to have fun: she finds out Finn is cheating on her.

Clarke’s not the type of girlfriend who’d look through her boyfriend's phone but when Finn’s phone pings ten times in two minutes, and Finn’s nowhere around, Clarke reaches for the coffee table to silence his phone, and that’s when a photo pops up. A photo of a naked girl. She can’t even bring herself to actually read the full message, throwing the phone back to the table like it might burn her hands if she holds it for a second longer.

Tears build up in her eyes as she looks around the room, searching for Finn. A part of her feels like she has no right to be this upset, it’s not like she’s been a perfect girlfriend either. But, then again, there were no naked photos of Bellamy in her phone. Or maybe that’s even worse somehow.

She finally spots her boyfriend playing Catan in the dining room with Miller and Monty, laughing about something with the guys. Emori and Murphy are on the couch next to Clarke, too busy playfully arguing about the names they can give to her future pet bearded dragon to notice their friend quietly spiraling. When Clarke’s eyes land on Bellamy, sitting in the corner of the room with Echo in his lap, smiling at the story the tall brunette is telling him, Clarke bolts out of the room. 

Half an hour later, Clarke’s sitting on a floor at the foot of either Bellamy’s or Miller’s bed, nursing a vodka bottle she grabbed from the kitchen before she went into hiding when the door cracks open, and Bellamy pokes his head through the opening.

“You know, I have a whole bed right behind you,” he points out jokingly as he slips into the room, shutting the door behind him.

She chuckles, wiping away her tears. “Your room is nice.”

“Thanks,” he says, making a few cautious steps towards her. “You okay?”

She manages a weak smile.“We gotta stop meeting like this.”

“Like what?”

“Drunk and alone,” she says as he takes the spot next to her on the soft carpet. 

“I’m not drunk. Are you drunk?”

She shakes her head. That might be a lie.

He smiles at her, and it could be one of the brightest smiles Clarke had ever seen. It’s the kind of smile that would make any girl melt. She wishes she was immune.

“It’s dangerous,” she tells him.

“Maybe I like danger?”

Clarke wishes she could do this. His face is inches away from her. She could easily lean in and kiss him. Instead, she says: “Finn’s cheating on me.” There are tears in her eyes when she says it out loud for the first time. “Like _actually_ cheating. She sent him nudes,” Clarke sobs. “He must be meeting her when he tells me he’s studying and-” another sob “- I don’t know.” 

It probably isn’t fair to cry about your boyfriend possibly cheating on you to the guy you have feelings for, Clarke realizes. But, at least she stopped herself from acting on her feelings and that must count for something, right? Right?

Maybe not.

“Clarke,” Bellamy calls softly, reaching out his hand. It would be so easy to take it.

She looks away, back to the bed behind them, and she feels herself panic as a hundred different thoughts run through her head at the same time. What is she doing?

“I’ll be fine. I don’t know what I was thinking,” she says suddenly, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “Go back there. Echo is probably looking for you.”

She feels him pull away. “Are you joking right now?”

“You don’t want her to worry.” 

She needs him to leave right now, before she breaks down completely or says something she shouldn’t.

But then he looks at her with those dark brown eyes, and it’s already too late.

“Clarke-”

“Are you in love with her?” Her voice is shaking, but she has to know. Why now, she’s not sure, but she has to know. “With Echo? Are you in love with Echo?”

“You know you’re the one who told me to hook up with her, right?” It’s not a ‘no’.

Clarke nods.

His voice is almost a whisper when he finally speaks, shaking his head a little.“I don’t get you, Clarke.”

She shrugs as another tear slides down her cheek. 

“Why are you with him?”

Instead of responding, Clarke bites her lip and watches as his expression darkens.

“You’re not gonna stay with him after this, are you?” He asks.

“I don’t-”

“Clarke, he’s cheating on you.”

She sighs. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s not. He doesn’t care about you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I think everyone with eyes can see that, Clarke.” It doesn’t come out as mean when Bellamy says it. “You two might have history from high school or whatever, but a lot has happened since high school. Maybe you’re not-”

“It’s not just _history_ ,” she interrupts him. “There’s no one who knows me better than him,” she adds, but as soon as those words come out of her mouth, she feels like it’s a lie. It’s probably been months since that was last true.

“So? You’re gonna settle for this?” He asks after some time. “And for how long?”

“I don’t know, Bellamy,” she tells him before meeting his eyes. It’s much harder to say all these things when she’s looking straight at him. “I don’t know the whole story yet, and we have dinner plans with my mum and her new boyfriend next Friday, and-”

“So, that’s the reason to stay with someone: _dinner plans?_ ”

“Bellamy,” she says. It sounds like it should be followed by “ _please_.”

He shakes his head at her. “You’re so special, Clarke.” His voice is low. “You deserve someone much better, not _this_.”

Clarke’s seconds away from bursting into tears again. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“ _Okay,_ ” is all he says at first.

Clarke half-expects him to leave, walk out of the room and go back to Echo when he meets her eyes again. His expression is different, Clarke notices. He’s as broken as she is.

“Just tell me one thing, Clarke: all this, _am I crazy_?”

She doesn’t need an explanation, she knows exactly what he means, and she can’t pretend anymore. “ _No,_ ” she tells him, a small smile on her lips as she takes his hand and pulls it into her lap. “You’re not crazy.” She plays with his fingers, brushing over them softly before intertwining them with hers.

“I don’t get you, Clarke,” he says, the corners of his mouth curling as his eyes scan hers.

She gives him another weak smile, her eyes teary.

“But don’t you want to get back at him? Call him out in front of everyone? Or get revenge? Make it even?”

“I’m not gonna do that.”

“Why not?”

“Isn’t this enough?” She asks, her voice shaking. She feels a sob coming. “That I’m in love with someone else and not him? Is that not enough?” 

She can hear the music from the other room and the sound of their friends talking loudly, but louder than that, she can feel the sound of her own heart beating. And then Bellamy’s softens, and he says the right thing at the wrong time:

“I wish I could kiss you.”

She wipes her tears away, cracking a smile, “Don’t say stuff like that.”

“But it’s the truth.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“ _I know_.”

Another tear runs down her cheek. She gives his hand three squeezes before letting go. “We should get back before anyone comes looking for us.”

Bellamy nods in agreement.

**_**December 8th,** _ **

It’s long after midnight, and all Clarke’s attempts to fall asleep failed spectacularly as she spent at least an hour tossing and turning and reanalyzing the conversation she had with Bellamy the other night. She grabs her phone, desperate to talk to him, but not knowing what she’ll even say, and then, for a second, her heart stops. 

2:43 a.m. Bellamy _is typing..._

She holds her breath.

2:44 a.m. Bellamy _is typing..._

2:45 a.m. Bellamy _is typing..._

Bellamy was last online at 2:45 a.m.

Clarke locks her phone and puts it away, hoping maybe tomorrow one of them will know what to say.

**__ **

**__ **

**_**December 11th,** _ **

When Bellamy finally calls, it’s 4 a.m., five days after their last conversation in Bellamy’s bedroom. Clarke picks up after the second ring.

“ _Bellamy_?” She asks, fumbling with the switch of her bedside lamp. “Is everything okay?”

“Why didn’t you come with us?” The undoubted sadness in his voice hits instantly. Clarke’s heart breaks. “Everyone else was there except for you.”

“I know,” she sighs, settling back into her bed. “I had a lot to study.”

“Pft. Lame,” he tells her. “I missed you. Wish you’ve gone out.”

“ _Me too_.”

There’s a pause, and then he says: “I’m tired, Clarke.”

“Tired or drunk?”

“ _Heh_ ,” she hears him chuckle, “both, I guess.”

Clarke smiles, shutting her eyes. She can imagine him laying on his bed under a soft duvet, staring at the ceiling in the darkness of his room with his phone pressed to his ear. 

“Echo and I broke up,” he says in a low voice, pulling her away from her daydream.

“Thought you two weren’t dating?”

“We weren’t,” he clarifies, “but whatever it was that happened between us is now over.”

“How’s _Finn_?” He asks after some time. It’s not a well-intentioned question which is clear by the way he pronounces the other guy’s name.

“ _Bellamy_ ,” she says softly.

“What?”

“Let’s not do that.”

“Why?”

“Well, for starters, you’re the one who saw him last. You all went out together tonight. So, technically, I should be asking you.”

“He’s such an asshole, Clarke. I don’t know what you see in him.” He’s quiet for a minute. All she can hear is his breathing through the phone. “Although,” he says finally, cracking up a little, “one could argue I’m also an asshole for hitting on my friend’s girlfriend. Maybe that’s your type: assholes.”

“ _Bellamy._ ”

“I’m just being honest,” he insists. “In vino veritas, you know. _In tequila mucho veritas_.”

She can’t stop the laughter from escaping her throat in time. “Yes, that other one is definitely Latin.”

He chuckles along with her. And then he sighs, “You’re so pretty, Clarke. And I love how you say my name. Say it again?”

“ _Bellamy_ ,” she warns him playfully, “please don’t say things like that.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Bellamy doesn’t answer. There’s a long pause during which Clarke opens her mouth three times and shuts it each time until finally, “You still there?”

“Yeah, yeah, just thinking.”

She hates that she’s doing this to him. She hates the whole fucked-up situation she put them in. “Maybe you should drink some water and then sleep?”

“Maybe,” she hears him yawn, “just a couple more minutes first.”

He pauses a bit and then, “Tell me about your day.”

**_**December 14th,** _ **

Clarke decided seven days would be an appropriate amount of time between breaking up with Finn and seeing Bellamy again. If only she knew how hard it was going to be.

That first night after the breakup, she spent the whole time crying. It was weird not being with Finn after being with him for so long. He was a big part of her life since high school, and that will always matter.

On the second night, Clarke called her girls over. It’s supposed to be a standard girl’s night, a ‘please don’t let me call that guy I desperately want to call as I get drunk on mulled wine’ kind of girl’s night, but around 3 a.m. it fails its purpose.

Clarke’s heartbeat echoes in the darkness of her living room. It’s past 3 a.m., and she’s the only one left awake. Next to her, on the pull-out couch, she feels the warmth of Raven’s body and hears her rhythmic breathing that clashes with occasional snores coming from Emori, curled up away on a lounge chair in the corner of the room. Clarke shuts her eyes, thinking she could force herself to go to sleep.

It doesn’t work: five minutes later, she’s still awake. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.

Clarke grabs her phone from the coffee table, blinding herself for a moment. As her eyes get used to the bright screen and her vision returns, she sees that he’s online and sends the text before there’s enough time to change her mind.

<< Clarke (3:48 AM): _can we meet?_

Her heart stops when she sees him typing.

>> Bellamy (3:49 AM): _Yes_

As she’s sitting in a 24-hours diner, tapping her leg nervously and looking over the milkshakes she ordered twenty minutes ago, Clarke wonders if him not showing up is exactly what she deserves. And then the doors burst open, and Bellamy walks in.

He looks like a mess. A very cute mess, Clarke thinks. His cheeks are pinched from the cold, his hair messy from the beanie he has just taken off. He's wearing a black hoodie under a black jacket, almost the exact shade as the dark circles around his eyes.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” he echoes.

“I thought I was going to wait a few days first.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Bellamy says, still breathless as he slides in the seat across from her. “I couldn’t sleep since Finn told me you guys talked.”

“I can tell,” she tells him. “You look like shit.”

He laughs. “Same goes to you, princess.”

Clarke lets herself laugh along with him for a moment. And then she remembers the conversation they’re supposed to be having and puts her hands up, her palms flat on the table. “Did Finn tell you everything we talked about?”

“Yes, but I want to hear it from you now.”

“He didn’t actually cheat on me, but he made me aware he definitely wanted to. So we broke up.”

“I know _that,_ ” he says. “That’s not the part I’m talking about”

She holds her breath, feeling her leg start to jiggle. “You heard it once already. Twice if you count the time Finn told you.”

“That didn’t count.” He shakes his head, biting on his bottom lip nervously. “I couldn’t say it back.”

“You could have.”

“But I didn’t. And I want to say it back this time.”

Her cheeks are burning when she feels his eyes on her. He watches her as she repeats the words three times in her head before saying it out loud. “I’m in love with you,” she tells him, before quickly adding, “ _you asshole_.”

The corners of his lips curl instantly. He reaches towards her, and she takes his hand, their hands barely brushing over the table. It’s enough to send butterflies down her spine. 

And then he says: “This isn’t going to come as a surprise, but I’m in love with you too.”

The relief she feels is instant. They grin at each other.

“Now what?” He asks.

“Now we drink these milkshakes before the ice in them melts because I ordered them half an hour ago, and you were late.”

He laughs. She loves that sound. 

“And then?”

She gives him a mysterious smile and shrugs.

And by the time their glasses are empty, it’s already past dawn, and Bellamy is sitting squeezed by Clarke's side in a small booth. They’re laughing, both of their eyes glazed, and he takes another moment to look at her.

“I want to kiss you,” he says. This time his timing is right.

“You should,” she tells him, already pulling him by the collar of his jacket. She can feel him smiling as their lips meet.

**Author's Note:**

> I realized halfway through this could also work as a braven fanfic but I'm a bellarke trash first and foremost!! 
> 
> If jroth can write ooc bellarke then maybe so can i? Idk, tell me your thoughts in the comments.
> 
> edit: i added the drawing i did of Bellamy and Clarke from November 1st!
> 
> Also, I just want to say, I'm officially a content creator for the 100 fic for BLM which is an amazing initiative and, if you want, you can prompt me to make you a moodboard! Here's a link to our [carrd](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co) that you can visit for more information.  
> You can also reach out to me on tumblr ([gansxythethird](https://gansxythethird.tumblr.com)) or write down in the comments! Thank you so much for reading! ♥


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